


The Hands-On Approach

by Alkyone Daze (VampChocKami)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Dancer!Raphael, Dancer!Simon, DancerAU, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:06:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampChocKami/pseuds/Alkyone%20Daze
Summary: Raphael gets stuck training the newbie while The Clan's flake of a crew captain vacays just before their upcoming battle against The Nephilim. Shouting commands only makes the guy more nervous, what can he do to get him to loosen up?ORSaphael AU where Raphael is leader of a dance crew and Simon’s the newbie. They’re working out a new routine and Raphael notices that Simon’s a little stiff and gives him some help.





	1. The Hands-On Approach

**Author's Note:**

> Plot bunny that I may or may not have mauled while trying to wring it from my brain.  
> I've recently fallen in love with the TV adaptation of Shadowhunters and, though Malec will always be bae, Saphael has become my new obsession.  
> I hope this is enjoyable. (^_^")/

“Here it comes and 3, 2, 1,” a low voice directs under the steady booming of a bass beat.

A wall of windows overlay a sunset on the dance crew inside the studio. The group keeps their eyes firmly on the wall lined with mirrors in front of them though as a guitar trickles in and they organically slide into a round of co-ordinated steps in time to the instrumental addition.

Centrepiece to this band is a man of roughly twenty, in perfect form, matching the group for every step until the section stops and there’s a long enough silence for him to call out: “Again,” to the gathered dancers as he steps out of position and turns to assess them all. He nods along with the beat and slides seamlessly through the wave of moving bodies to correct and adjust people. His tan skin glows with the orange of the sunlight and he squints at it, annoyed, for a second.

He hears a stumble and his eyes dart to their newbie as he regains his footing. He can see the younger man swallowing and just barely refraining from apologising.

For the rest of practice he calls out direction to the new guy alone, the rest of the crew having gotten the hang of it and now just practicing so that it becomes muscle-memory.

“Fledgling, loosen up,” he notices a stiffness to the roll of the new guys hips that cannot be there during their performance but no matter what advice he calls out to the guy his movements only seem to get jerkier. He fights the urge to do more than put his fingers to the bridge of his nose, like yell obscenities in Spanish and forcibly move the guy’s hips the way they were supposed to.

His brain catches on the image of his hands on the new guys hips but he blinks it away quickly.

He sighs and surveys the last round of the move, watching for anyone else who needs help. Finding that their weak link is indeed the new guy he dismisses practice with a: “Thanks guys,” as the sun lowering outside the window starts to make some of his dancers nervous.

High fives and cheers go around as the group breaks up to hit the showers but he watches the new guy do everything in his power to avoid any contact of any kind, going so far as to give just a faint smile to Lily who had immediately taken a liking to him once he’d arrived and who he normally beamed at.

The concern on her face comes to his attention and he nods to her to indicate that he’ll take care of it but she still feels the need to walk over.

“Don’t be too hard on him, Raphael,” she requests after a gulp from a pink water bottle, “you know we’re facing Nephilim at the next competition and he’s nervous about going up against his childhood friend.”

Raphael looks at her out of the corner of his eye, keeping the rest of his gaze on the newbie; “Simon’s part of the Clan, not Nephilim; he needs to get over it.”

Lily rolls her eyes, takes another swig and watches the curly-haired boy mope in the corner of the room, “he’s part of the Clan because Camille was a manipulative bitch and, once he finally realised that, she was gone and he’d made a commitment to us.”

Raphael makes a noise of begrudging agreement.

“You aren’t the most patient director, Raph,” she ignores his glare as the new guy finally begins gathering up his stuff with a sigh, “try a little harder with this one.”

He notices a fond little smile on her face and frowns slightly. He glances around at the rest of the Clan and notes that quite a few of them are hanging back a bit uncertainly, glancing at the forlorn new guy like they want to connect with him but aren’t sure where his loyalties lie. Raphael sighs, catches the eye of a few of them and waves them off, walking to cut the newbie’s route off.

The taller guy blinks down at him confusedly, sunset glittering off the discs of plastic in his eyes. Contacts. Raphael wonders what his fledgling looks like with glasses.

“You’re not getting it,” he clears his throat before he speaks and the curly-haired brunet averts his gaze and starts stuttering out apologies but Raphael cuts him off by brushing past him and switching the music back on. He turns back to the younger man and gestures for him to drop his stuff. His fledgling swallows and does just that, removing the jacket he’d loosely slung onto his limbs and exposing the Spiderman-themed blue tank-top he’d been practicing in.

Raphael resists the urge to rake his eyes over the nerd and just gives the signal for him to start up the sequence. Simon works through the steps nervously but fluidly until he comes to the section Raphael can never direct right through voice commands.

He immediately gets irritated and Simon notices. His fledgling starts to miss other steps and Raphael begins to think that he needs to try a different approach. Snapping commands at the younger only seems to fluster him into more mistakes; more so somehow in this one-on-one approach.

He sighs and signals for Simon to take a quick break.

The sun has set by now and they’re working by city-light. Raphael goes to switch on the lights when a lightbulb smacks him in the face. The music is still playing in the background and Simon is chugging water like he thinks ‘take five’ means five seconds.

Raphael vaguely feels the urge to tell his fledgling that drinking that much water so fast will only make him sick but he’s caught up in his idea.

He’s never tried the approach before but a lot of dance instructors use it, right? Directing with touch instead of voice. His own dance instructor had done it with him when he first started learning the moves. It was just easier to mould one’s body to a certain movement than imitate it. And maybe the proximity would dissipate some of the sexual tension between them. He would like his fledgling to stop tripping up every time he so much as looked at him.

He gestures Simon back into position and ignores the music, thinks for a second and turns it off.

Simon frowns at him but Raphael is expressionless as he strides back to his fledgling. He doesn’t stop walking until he’s close enough for their breath to _just_ intermingle. The first thing both men notice is heat. For a second Raphael thinks it’s not going to work as Simon’s limbs seem to tense in direct proportion to how close he stands but he muscles through.

Glad that he won’t have to work the other man’s toes apart from each other, Raphael places a foot between Simon’s legs and taps the insides of his shoes.

“Spread ‘em,” he manages to say the concise sentence in a low drawl. He might have imagined the slight hitch in his fledgling’s breath when he did so or he might not but goddammit this competition was important to his team and he's been able to control his raging attraction to the other so far so Simon’s discomfort can just go suck it.

His fledgling swallows but slides his feet apart from each other on the floor, his sneaker’s squeaking slightly with the movement.

Raphael keeps his eyes on the younger’s legs and calls out: ‘”Stop,” when they’re far enough apart. He nods in satisfaction and instructs Simon to follow his hands as he puts them on the lower half of the guy’s ribs; the temperature on the younger man’s skin double that radiating off him. He meets the newbie’s gaze steadily and, after a few seconds, asks if he’s used to the presence of his touch, knowing how jarring it can be to suddenly have someone touch you in close proximity. And his touch was going to go places that would make anyone nervous.

Simon takes a breath and lets it out, aiming slightly upward so that it ruffles Raphael’s dark curls and nods. Raphael tucks away the little sweep of butterflies at the sensation of having his hair ruffled by Simon’s breath and focuses on the move.

 He runs his hands down Simon’s sides and finds his hips, his palms itchy with tingles from just barely rubbing fabric. He presses lightly into the groove between hip-bone and thigh, the stretches of his fingertips tentatively pressing the flesh of his fledgling’s butt, and mutters the instruction: “Lower your body.”

Simon complies and Raphael can’t resist a smirk when he’s the one with lips level to the newbie’s nose. The height difference has been bugging him ever since he’d gotten up close. His fledgling, on the other hand, is glaring up at him and he resists the urge to chuckle.

He feels a light huff on his chin and realises Simon’s too far forward.

“Straighten up,” he directs while running his right hand across the other boy’s ass, dragging the sliding fabric of his pants up and resisting the impulse to slap the firm cheek, to his lower back; mimicking the movement over the curve of Simon’s hip across his stomach and up to the brunet’s chest with his left hand; pressing the other into the appropriate stance.

The other gasps but he can only barely feel it on his face so he’s satisfied.

“What do I do with my arms?”

“Hmm?” Raphael’s almost startled at hearing the fledgling speak. He has been unnaturally quiet for their private session. He notices that Simon has kept his arms slightly away from his body while they’ve been working out posture. It’s worked well enough; Raphael is standing too close to do the arms for this section.

The elder is tempted to ask Simon to put his arms around his shoulders but that would be a bit too forward and having Simon dangle his hips a hair’s breadth from Raphael’s might just make his instructor slip up in his control of the situation. He shrugs.

“Put ‘em behind your head,” he suggests and freezes when Simon’s biceps flex and corded patterns of muscle weave themselves into arrows stretched out from either side of Simon’s head. He wants to swallow the dryness in his throat but Simon will notice and holy shit this is somehow a lot more erotic than Simon _touching_ him. The younger man looks like GQ model and Raphael has to snap himself out of a daze, relenting to a small clearing of the throat.

He concentrates on fixing Simon’s form and slides his hands over the man’s chest and downward, reaching his thighs and spreading them wider. He nods in approval and slides his fingers back up the way they came, unable to resist biting the inside of his lip at the tremble of sensitive flesh beneath his fingertips, resting them on Simon’s hips again.

“Dip _into_ the sway.”

Raphael pushes Simon’s hips into a swing, pressing them down towards the middle of the swing and guiding them like that for a few moments before releasing and letting Simon’s hips tap the palms of his hands as they sway from side to side.

“Better,” Raphael compliments and becomes hypnotised with the movement for a minute.

Simon watches Raphael watch him and struggles to keep his breathing in check. The cocky, flirtatious bastard is just staring at him as he dies of arousal over here with his intense eyes never leaving Simon’s hips, his superior smirk and his palms nearly smacking against Simon’s ass with every dip.

Simon wants that superior smirk all over what those intense eyes are glued to.

Fed up with being objectified, Simon swings upward instead of left; and brushes against a hard-on in equal, if not greater, proportion to his own. His hips still, Raphael breathes in sharply and Simon’s mouth stops working even though he really wants to say: “Is that a cell phone in your pocket or are you just horny to see me?”

All pretence of Raphael’s nonchalance is wiped away before Simon’s eyes and he looks predatory as he breathes out.

“Oh, you should not have done that, baby.”

Simon’s back hits the window-wall with more of a plastic gong than anything but he’s not concerned with the office building across the street because Raphael’s full lips are on his and the director of his crew’s erection is between his legs and he can finally let the back of his head go and clutch Raphael’s shoulders to his body.

Raphael’s hands are encroaching but not entirely on Simon’s ass and, in an attempt to rectify that, Simon wraps his legs around Raphael’s waist. He finds something much better as the older man grips his thighs firmly; Simon finds it much easier to rub against Raphael’s hard-on like this and they both gasp and groan at the friction.

“Simon,” Raphael mutters breathlessly against his lips and Simon does it again because God if Raphael’s regular voice was sexy his bedroom voice was orgasmic. Raphael’s lips leave his and begin to travel along his jaw in an uneven, frenzied pattern and Simon stretches his neck out and focuses on steadily thrusting against Raphael’s dick.

Raphael’s lips and teeth meet Simon’s neck and for a few minutes the sound of their laboured breathing is upped in volume in Simon’s ears. When Raphael’s bites and kisses start to travel back up his neck Simon starts to pull away.

“Raph,” he manages to gulp out.

“Si, mi pipiolo,” he husked against Simon’s skin, a bit reluctant to let go.

Simon pulls his face up to his lips and kisses him, smiling, at the nickname.

“Put me down real quick,” he asks and Raphael complies without hesitation, lowering the taller man to the ground. Simon takes a second to get his land-legs back and then drags Raphael over to the section of the studio with the mats, sliding his shoes off with his toes.

Raphael follows suit and when he manages to free himself of his shoes Simon tackles him and straddles his waist. The distinct shape of Simon’s cock rolls against his own and he gasps in sharply, staring heatedly at his smirking pupil. Simon drops forward and traps Raphael’s wrists to the ground. He gently kisses the man’s full lips and slowly slides back and forth against his twitching dick. His hungry lips travel away from Raphael’s and under his jaw, kissing the smooth skin beneath his lover’s chin before slipping down and over Raphael’s collar bone. Nosing at it where it hides underneath Raphael’s skin-tight black shirt.

Simon takes the collar up in his teeth and snaps it back down to Raphael’s skin. The little gust of wind startles the Mexican and his eyes met Simon’s as the brunet straightens up, letting Raphael’s wrists go and stretching his arms behind his head again while rhythmically thrusting their erections against each other.

Raphael lies, still, and watches Simon close his eyes in pleasure, moaning softly under his breath. The ragged breathing filling Raphael’s ears is his own he realises. His hands reach around Simon’s waist and knead the flesh there, thrusting him ever so slightly more vigorously against his cock.

From there he slips his fingers under Simon’s blue tank top and pulls it over his head.

He pauses to watch the expanding and contracting muscles on display as Simon’s chest heaves with exhaustion and arousal. He swallows and bites his lip while staring for a few moments before lunging and wrapping his arms under Simon’s butt to lift him up slightly, not that he needed the extra height advantage, and devours his chest with an eager mouth.

He drags his teeth along Simon’s collarbones before kissing the hollow of his throat, working his way down from there in kisses before diverting onto a nipple and sucking on it. He licks around and at it, memorising the satin texture of the small area, and then moves down to lick the salt off the grooves of Simon’s abs, the sweat making sure he almost never runs out of moisture but when he does he suckles and grips at the little patch of skin, enjoying the hitching of Simon’s breath and the pleasure-pain hisses as Raphael leaves hickeys here and there on his stomach.

His favourite part of the evening is when he gets to the skin on Simon’s hip bones and the other boy howls in pleasure. The sensation rushing up the young dancer’s abdomen as it shoots down the lower half of his body and his legs tremble in Raphael’s arms. Raphael smiles as he drags his tongue from the formation of the first of these across the curve of Simon’s waist. His chin brushes the tip of Simon’s straining erection and his mouth moves to create a twin while Simon’s cries are almost pleading as he bends over Raphael’s head.

Raphael looks up and sees Simon’s thumbnail being worked to death between his teeth; his brow is furrowed.

Captivated by the sight he leans back, licks his lips and bites down on them before gasping out a: “Kiss me,” and gets his own shirt ripped off and thrown back onto the mat again with a thud. Simon plants his lips to Raphael’s, dancing across his face and neck while Raphael undoes his fledgling’s pants, slides his erection out and begins tugging at it rhythmically. Simon stops near his ear and just pants and groans, his whimpers turning Raphael on.

When his sweet fledgling tries to move away Raphael puts a hand to the back of his head and keeps him there.

“Don’t,” he breathes, rubbing precum over the head of Simon's erection to draw another beautiful moan from him, “your voice turns me on so much, babe- Simon, don’t stop, let me hear you, right there.”

Simon swallows, turns his head toward Raphael’s ear and experimentally whispers his name; watching his reaction out of the corner of his eye. Raphael’s breath hitches; his grip on the back of Simon’s head tightens and Simon breathes out a laugh.

They do this while Raphael rubs him.

“Raph- Raphael ah haa haa, squeeze a bit tighter for me ba-oooh yeah haa haa,” Simon’s limbs are shaking and hips are jerking into Raphael’s grip.

“Oh god you feel so good Raph so hot so- ffuuuck ah hah hah Raphael, _Raphael_ ,” he becomes a squirming squealing mess, “Oh _god_ Raph it’s so good you’re so good it’ssso- I’m cumming-,”

Simon whispers his name and compliments him and tells him what he’s doing just right until Raphael’s name comes out as a strangled whisper and semen spills all over Raphael’s stomach.

Simon presses his dripping forehead to the mats and gasps and swallows as he feels Raphael’s rumbling chuckle beside him. Tired but not one to skimp on his side of the process he lazily kisses down Raphael’s chest, much like the elder had done to him, but is a little more impatient and goes straight for his pants.

Without ceremony he yanks the material down and away, wraps Raphael’s head in his mouth and sucks. Raphael’s back arches as he gasps and then mutters incoherently in Spanish. Simon chuckles around the warmth in his mouth and starts bobbing up and down, going faster and deeper when Raphael starts winding his fingers through Simon’s curls and gasping compliments and encouragement and who knows what else in Spanish.

The thickness of Raphael’s cock stretches Simon’s mouth as he swirls his tongue around and around Raphael’s head like an ice cream cone. He looks up to see that at some point, his tongue snags on a bundle of nerves in his dear instructor’s dick that makes his whole body jerk in pleasure. Tempted to grin mischievously but not having much room around the erection in his mouth, Simon sucks docilely for a while to give his lover some relief before relentlessly finding and dragging his tongue over Raphael’s sweet spot again and again and again.

“Nonononon- Sim- sto- not so-s-s-Sim-,”

Raphael is a stuttering, quivering tangle of ecstasy. He mutters something over and over again in Spanish and then has enough sense to translate in case Simon doesn’t understand.

“Oh God Simon I’m cumming, _I’m_ _cumming_!”

Simon moves faster, and sucks harder despite the weak tugging at his hair to pull away and when Raphael orgasms Simon feels the liquid burst into the back of his throat and does his best to swallow it all. When it’s done he can’t resist giving a few more light sucks if only for the tortured sound Raphael makes.

He then drags himself up next to a gasping Raphael and they grin at each other; Simon’s head propped up so he can stare at the recovering Adonis beside him. He keeps swallowing to get the uncomfortable slickness out of the back of his mouth and Raphael frowns, noticing the constant bobbing of his throat.

“You didn’t have to swallow, you know.”

Simon smirks at the clear concern and shakes his head.

“Won’t do it every time,” his voice is a bit raspy, “just figured we have my mess to clean up already,” he gestures to Raphael’s glistening stomach and the troupe leader smirks up at the ceiling.

“Give it a few more seconds, then we’ll hit the showers, I haven’t felt this boneless in too long.”

“You flatter me, Lord Santiago.”

Raphael rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply.

“So,” Simon eventually says, “how long have you wanted to do that?”

Raphael is quiet for a while, probably thinking back to the beginning of their sexual tension.

“Probably since the first time I saw you dance. That, or the first time you opened your mouth.”

“To shut me up right, ha ha.”

Raphael actually chuckles. Simon lays his head back down on the mats and frowns up at the ceiling but he can still see Raphael’s smirk to his right.

“For you?” Raphael turns his head slightly to catch Simon’s face while he thinks but Simon doesn’t need to.

“The first time I saw you with your shirt off.”

Raphael frowns, “When have you seen me with my shirt off?”

He usually hangs back after practice to workshop a few moves and work out some timing before packing up and then hitting the showers. By the time he gets in everybody has already left.

“I came back after practice one time to ask you a question and saw you at the tail-end of a workshop in summer,” Simon’s cheeks crinkled into dimples, “I have completely forgotten the question and will probably never remember it, the image of your back is forever super-imposed over it like-,”

Raphael glances toward Simon worriedly, his almost-chuckle-but-full-on-grin dissipating slightly in the wake of Simon’s abrupt silence.

“What?” he asks after a few seconds of watching Simon stare blankly at the ceiling.

The brunet lifts his head up and props it on his hand again, turning his blank stare to Raphael. “I just remembered my question,” he mutters incredulously like he really hadn’t been expecting to remember.

Raphael bursts into laughter, stands up and drags Simon to the showers with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Si, mi pipiolo: Yes, my fledgling
> 
> Forgive me if it sounds super awkward but I was looking for a nickname and 'my fledgling' kept cropping up so I tried to use that.


	2. Co-Choreography

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the family isn't a family until Johnny Castle has his Baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is legit inspired by the wondrous human being that commented on the last chapter with suggestions for a sequel and, by the Angel I have not posted or gotten compliments and encouragement in so long that I literally immediately outlined two more chapters, mentally mashed four songs together and constructed a group dance routine to it.
> 
> This goes out to you Marianna and all you gorgeous, beautiful, adorable, vampgelic people who gave me kudos because you actually enjoyed reading what I wrote.
> 
> P.S. Am I the only one who mentally struggles with the height difference between Raphael and Simon? Because, objectively, yeah but, either because of the structure of the shots or David and Alberto's acting, Raphael just _feels_ taller, y'know? I dunno.
> 
> Also; I listened to [ this mix ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7901-yBl7cM) when constructing my dance party. It might be helpful if you gave the first half an hour a listen too.

The elevator emits a low beep and the reflective doors open but Raphael still hasn’t been able to remove the faint smirk on his face.

His ability to straight-face has been decreasing ever since he’d slung his gym bag over his shoulder and left his house this morning but now it’s late afternoon and he feels nauseous from the butterflies clogging up his intestines. He had even paced up and down as the metal and glass box had risen through the floors, fidgeting and prodding at his unyielding face to get the conspicuous cheer off it before he met the rest of the Clan for practice.

He takes a deep breath and forces his trained body into stillness. He will not fidget on his way to the studio. He hates fidgeting. Unless Simon’s doing it. Because his fledgling is just downright cute when he does anything.

Ugh, he’s sickening himself.

His steps are silent on the wooden floorboards and he relaxes the closer he gets to the studio, the sun so perfectly directed in this building that the walls and floors glow with the light.

The first thing he hears is uproarious laughter and the next thing he sees through the open door is Simon grinning while Elliot pats him on the back, howling, Stan covers his face while his shoulders shake in mirth and Hailey is doubled over from laughing so hard.

He doesn’t try to hide this smile.

Simon’s lips are still moving and none of them notice the new arrival, too centred on the newbie’s knack for endless conversation. The door frame presses into Raphael’s bicep and the butterflies have calmed, appeased by the smile on his fledgling’s face.

“Good work, Raph,” his heart jumps in surprise but he doesn’t whirl around to face Lily, she strolls up beside him and nods at the scene in approval, “you took my advice and went easy on him I’m guessing.”

Raphael remembers slamming Simon’s back into the windows right across from where he now stands and chooses to grunt in reply, not sure if Lily wants to know that he and the newbie had nearly screwed each other senseless in the room where she practiced her passion for dance.

He’s pretty sure it’s like telling your sister you had sex in her bedroom.

She glances at him but shakes off his unresponsiveness and steps into the room with a smile, the group looking up at her arrival and ushering her into the conversation. Simon grins at her as she gives him a warm side-hug and probably makes a mean remark about Raphael in his ear because he searches the room right after that and meets the young Mexican’s kind-eyed gaze from the doorway.

The increase in happiness expressed on his fledgling’s face is like a floodlight falling into the sun.

Raphael smirks in reply and Simon blushes lightly then tunes back into the conversation in time to intercept a clever insult thrown at Stan; he joins into the collective: “Oohhhh!” and mess of high fives that follow while Stan rolls his eyes at the ceiling.

A chuckle rises low in Raphael’s chest and he shakes his head, steeling his face and striding forward. He drops his bag with the others, in a corner of the studio, and strides into the centre of the room.

“Less talking more stretching people!” his husky voice breaks the group up gently and they organically slide into stretches, Elliot comes up to grasp his hand and bro-hug him before dragging him over to join the rest of the still-chatting clique.

Raphael watches Simon in his element: talking.

He remembers it annoying him when the new guy first tagged along to a practice, a new recruit Camille saw potential in. He recalls how the Clan was stand-offish at first, knowing that she found him around the Nephilim, but slowly got used to the amount of chatter he can spout almost non-stop like he doesn’t need to breathe.

The rest of their members pour in halfway through stretches and, while waiting for them to finish, Raphael pulls Lily aside and shows her a sequence he’d brainstormed since their last practice session.

He stands with his legs apart, leaned slightly to the left, his head facing downward into the lean and his right hand behind his head.

“… then I was thinking going into Boom Boom Pow like:”

He pulls his right arm down into an upraised fist then swings it from shoulder so he holds his fist up beside his head and then drops fist and body into a mechanical lean to the right; each movement matched to a word.

“What do you think?”

He looks over at her but she looks like she stopped paying attention somewhere in the middle of his routine. Her eyes are wide and she’s fanning herself and twisting her lips like she’s not sure what to say. Raphael feels a spike of butterflies as the ridiculous thought that she didn’t like it passes through his head.

“Wow,” she breathes, “I know dancing’s gotten sexier over the years Raph but this isn’t ‘ _Magic Mike’_.”

He blames the roll of mirth in his shoulders on undue nervousness. Damn basing dance moves on real life experiences and feelings and… _people_. He glances away from her and swallows. To anyone else it would look like he was just shaking off her criticism but Lily’s gaze narrows; she’s known him for long enough.

Her smirk is evil, Raphael can sense it.

“So, Patrick Swayze,” she stalks up to him, “who’s your Baby?”

Raphael curses the amount of time his friend spends with his fledgling because clearly the tendency to make endless movie references has rubbed off. He knows Lily well enough not to react though until an alarmed yell from Simon across the room draws his attention and he glances over quickly.

His panic is quickly abated as Derek puts him down and ruffles his hair while Simon laughs hysterically, barely getting out the words: “You win! You win!”

Raphael wants to chuckle again. He turns back to Lily to see that she’d followed his gaze and her mouth drops open in a mix of incredulity and glee.

“ _The baby_?” she whispers through a mock-scandalised expression.

He rolls his eyes and steps away from her. Lily’s amused gaze turns sullen and she folds her arms across her chest.

“Hey!” she calls to the back of his head indignantly, “I’m the closest thing you have to a best friend since Magnus started dated that Nephilim,” he sighs and shakes his head, walking away from her, “ _come on!_ ” she half-whines.

“Think about that sequence!” he calls over his shoulder, moving to start practice.

“Okay guys, recap!” he calls to the assembly of dancers.

They wait for everyone to get into position, Lily rubbing shoulders with Simon on her way to her spot behind Raphael’s left shoulder and smirking at his confused frown while Raphael attempts to keep his expressions under control.

He nods and Autumn, standing nearest the play button, starts the section.

They freestyle while they wait for the cue, Raphael tests out some moves and Simon goofs just behind him, he can just sense it.

They complete a few run-throughs as a team before Raphael turns around to make sure they’re moving as a unit. His gaze snags on Simon’s hips and he almost forgets how to breathe. If the easy chatter and natural goofing around that morning wasn’t a clue that he’d taught his fledgling to loosen up then the seductive roll of his waist certainly gave it away.

Having the privilege of being at the forefront of this part of the routine, Simon was not obscured in any way as he bent, thrust and swayed – oh querido Dios that _sway_ – to the Spanish guitar. The Clan must have run through the sequence three times before Simon cracks up and Raphael shakes himself out of his lapse in concentration.

The music suddenly switches to a pop song dance mix and Raphael realises that he’s been so out of it he hadn’t even seen Hailey stop dancing and calmly walk over to the laptop hooked up to the speakers.

“SURPRISE DANCE PARTY!” she screams and the Clan cheers and spreads out.

Simon grins as he shuffles over and starts doing cheesy dance moves in front of him. Raphael can’t help the smitten smile or even the unabashed laughter that hides just under the bass and makes him bend his head toward his adorable fledgling.

They dance together, Simon fluctuating between serious dance moves and quite literally raising his hands up and down toward the ceiling. Raphael’s grin doesn’t leave his face, though he refuses to engage in any of the silly motions his floundering ray of sunshine tries to convince him to participate in. Lily eventually cuts in to relieve some of the demand and they roll their hands while dipping forward and backward, then twirling to do it in a different direction.

When she leaves they riff off each other and challenge one another and Simon even gets Raphael to shimmy his shoulders when Ariana Grande’s Focus comes in. They’re so focused on each other that they don’t notice how closely the rest of the Clan is watching when they gravitate toward each other, a bit worn out from some all-out moves, and dance with their foreheads touching.

“Can I kiss you?” Simon speaks into Raphael’s ear and the elder forgets that they’re in the middle of a surprise dance party with eight other people they know and tilts his head up to snag those tempting lips with his own. His right hand snakes under Simon’s left arm to press the taller’s head down and his left digs fingers into the giddy boy’s side while Simon wraps his left arm around Raphael’s shoulders, the fingers of his right hand tangled in the front of Raphael’s shirt and their thighs brushing against each other because they’d gotten their legs tangled together while dancing.

A few seconds later they become aware of whoops and cheers that aren’t part of the music. They break off and Raphael’s chest bumps against Simon’s as Derek leaps onto his back, yelling: “Congrats big boss-man!” over the over-enthusiastic beat and chorus of cheers.

A smile seems glued to Raphael’s face and Simon’s eyes seem glued to that as he gives out a vamp-gelic grin, cute as an angel but reminiscent of a vampire due to his prominent canines. Lily kisses him on the cheek and probably whispers: “Good luck,” in his ear.

The music calms down somewhat after that and Hailey skips over to turn it down when Lily signals that she wants to make an announcement. Derek is still on Raphael’s back as they turn to listen to her. He hasn’t asked the Clan member to get off or unceremoniously dropped him yet and Derek is honestly milking it for all he’s worth.

“I’ve thought about the sequence, Raphael,” she has a glint in her eye that either means he’ll really like what she says next or he’s going to need therapy sometime in the immediate future. It should scare him how the possibility for both those experiences is cued by the same expression.

“And I’m sure the Clan saw enough of that sexiness to agree that it deserves a partner,” Raphael’s smirk can only be downturned on one side of his mouth, he’s too happy to control the other as the Clan cheers in agreement and Derek finally jumps off Raphael’s back.

He rolls his shoulders and shakes his head but nods in agreement soon afterward, refusing to watch the Clan jump into exaggerated celebration as some members flip and high-five around him. Simon nudges his hand and Raphael instinctively wraps his fingers around the other’s. He understands that their enthusiasm is about more than him and Simon hooking up; it’s the elation of finally slotting that last piece in just right. He squeezes Simon’s hand, closing his eyes to listen to the music of his Clan becoming his family again.

* * *

 

“We’ll practice it right now, I swear,” Raphael assures the pointed look Lily gives him on her way out, “and showcase it next practice.”

Lily nods in satisfaction and starts walking backwards but then stops, “you guys didn’t,” she starts thoughtfully, “get together at the end of our last practice,” Raphael doesn’t move, “in here…?”

“… Do you seriously want me to answer that?”

“No, no, I don’t even know why I asked.”

She turns and walks purposefully toward the door, pauses with her hands against it, appearing to consider making a comment, but decides against it and leaves. Raphael turns to see his fledgling’s teeth clinging to the orifice of a water bottle and licks his lips.

“Can I have some of that?” the words are out of his mouth almost before he finishes thinking them.

“Sure,” Simon mumbles around the plastic and stretches the half-full instrument towards him. Raphael strides towards him, puts his palm over Simon’s hand on the water bottle, securing both in his grip, and kisses the coolness off the younger man’s lips.

“Thank you,” he pulls back with a smirk and lets go of the water bottle. Simon swallows and nods even though Raphael’s back is turned. When he turns back around Simon is shirtless and a looks bit cocky himself.

“Ready to learn, teach,” he flexes his arms in a stretch as he walks over to the mats. Raphael’s eyebrows have cocked up and he blinks once or twice before setting his jaw in an unreadable expression and taking his own shirt off.

“Okay, so this is for the ‘ _I don’t fucking care’_ segment,” Raphael explains, choosing not to react to the appraising glance his fledgling gives him as he stands in front of him, the mirrors at his back and the dark office building out the window to his right.

Raphael demonstrates the move to Simon slowly and Simon imitates him. Raphael adjusts and corrects him as he sees fit until he’s gotten the hang of it and Raphael smirks lightly.

“Good work,” Simon beams because he knows now that’s high praise from Raphael where he’s concerned.

They end up workshopping more of the routine, getting caught up in crafting a dance together and eventually scrapping Raphael’s intended ending to the segment. They’re practicing a trick of Simon’s creation. Raphael’s knees are bent and Simon’s legs are wrapped around his thighs with the older man’s hands on the taller’s back for support. Simon’s arms are around Raphael’s neck.

“Are you sure about this, pipiolo?” the concern is only on the edges of his tone, he doesn’t want to seem like he’s doubting his fledgling’s ability but the newbie is being a bit reckless.

“Relax, Raphael,” Simon lets go of his partner’s shoulders to slap him on the arm and relies on the connection of their thighs to support him, oh, and Raphael’s hands, Raphael’s very capable hands which are just now shifting from his back to underneath his ass, his arm curled under Simon’s thighs so they’re out of the way of the launch. He leans back and Raphael boosts him from under his thighs so he flips and lands on his feet. The impact is a bit jarring and he wobbles but he soon stands up with an elated grin.

“I told you it would work!”

Before Simon can ramble about the amazingness and the logistics and the ‘in your sexy, smug face Raphael!’ the Mexican intervenes with a pre-emptive eye-roll and starts striding forward.

“I know you did, mi rayo de sol parlanchin,”

Simon sticks his tongue out and meets Raphael in the middle, swinging himself back onto the other’s hips seamlessly with ease.

“One more time, mi luna gruñón?”

Raphael’s shoulders shake with holding back laughter and he leans his forehead against Simon’s, closing his eyes and squeezing the other’s waist and just holding him there for a few minutes. They breathe each other in for a while; until Simon’s tentative lips brush against Raphael’s and the soft-like-satin touch sets every nerve in contact and the surrounding skin tingling and then they’re kissing.

Slowly, carefully, they match each other’s lips, but then Simon’s tongue leaves a hot trail on the inner rim of Raphael’s mouth and their tongues are meeting, tasting, clashing, fighting. They pull each other’s lips into their mouths and nip at them lightly, their breathing becoming laboured and desperate.

Raphael belatedly realises that he’s sunk to his knees on the floor and Simon’s sitting on his lap. This makes it easier for him to explore his fledgling’s back.

Kissing takes a backseat as Raphael runs his fingers down the pathways of every new groove that appears in his lover’s back from the shifting muscles of Simon squirming under his touch as the lazy movement sends tingles all across his skin and agitates the butterflies freaking out inside his chest.

“ _Raphael_ ,” Simon pleads against his lips and his lover breathes out, harshly, but doesn’t stop, only seems more eager to tease noise out of him. Raphael slides his face past Simon’s jaw and kisses at his neck while his fingers roam.

“Raphael!” Simon calls indignantly and gets a sadistic chuckle in reply.

“How much don’t you like it?” he asks soon, though, and Simon pouts into the mirror across from them, realising he can see his lover’s back in it.

“I’m only bothered because if you keep doing that I’m gonna get so agitated that I’m gonna wanna have sex. Rough sex. Multiple rounds of it. Multiple rounds of rough sex.”

Simon watches Raphael’s back ripple with his chuckle and can’t resist touching it.

“Okay, okay, mi pipiolo,” he relents and starts pressing his fingers into the muscles instead, “How about this?”

Simon hums in appreciation and asks what stroking Raphael’s back does to him.

“Nothing much,” Simon’s a bit disappointed at that, “but it’s very soothing for you to rub it like that,” Simon rubs wide circles intermittent with light pressure into the crevices of Raphael’s shoulder blades and feels his lover melt into him.

“When I’m feeling down or tired,” Raphael explains into Simon’s shoulder, “my mother, one of my brothers, someone in my family will sit next to me and just rub my back like that.”

Simon’s smiling at the story, squeezing Raphael’s shoulders against his chest when it happens.

“ _AH!”_ he gasps, eyes wide as he jerks upward. Raphael’s eyes widen at the reaction until he feels a rising hard-on brush against his stomach and, instead, looks downward. Simon’s biting his thumbnail, flushed with embarrassment but Raphael’s just filing away that spot in Simon’s lower back that makes him yell like a pornstar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampgelic  
> You guys know what smile I'm talking about right?  
> The one in the scene where Simon unzips himself from the body bag and his hair's all messed up and he's all like: 'did I do good?'  
> The one that makes your heart ache almost as much as knowing that Raphael is unnecessarily treated like shit?  
> THAT one.
> 
> The translations have changed. Thank you to julietmonells for correcting me you are a lovely person :)
> 
> Mi rayo de sol parlanchin: My babbling sunshine
> 
> Mi luna gruñón: My grumpy moon
> 
> Pipiolo: fledgling
> 
> Once again I apologise for awkward Spanish, I am literally the furthest from any Spanish speaking person and I have not heard it spoken anywhere except TV so please tell me if my online dictionaries are lying to me.


	3. Flirty Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to be honest, this was done like a month ago. I've been super-nervous about uploading, though, because of several personal reasons but thank you so much to every comment and kudos I got in the interim reminding me that I have a story to update. I had to cut out a lot of my choreography because that doesn't translate well into text, also this mash-up does not exist but there are links to all the songs I mention.
> 
> Every person that's enjoying this thank you so much for taking the time to.
> 
> Without further ado and all that kerfuffle...

Raphael stands in the centre of the darkened stage with his crew crowded around him in the dark. They flank him like shadowed wings as they wait for Dan Reynolds to rip into the first words of their opening song.

_[I torture you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmuUubYegMA) _

_Take my hand through the flames_

Lily and Stan reach desperately toward one another before Raphael as the crowds behind them adopt feral faces and grip limbs and clothes to hold them back. Until the second line rolls in and Raphael unfreezes to slowly grasp and raise Lily and Stan’s hands like he’s championing them.

The tables abruptly turn after that with the coming lines as the pair drag Raphael to his knees and he sweeps his head forward. They slowly bend him backward. The whole group changing the focus of their animosity to him, appearing to be pressing him into the floor, surging into the movement like a crashing wave.

_I torture you_

_I’m a slave to your games (I’m just a sucker for pain)_

_I wanna chain you up_

_I wanna tie you down_

As chains clank in the background of the track, Lily and Stan systematically pull Raphael to his feet, his head lolling dramatically, and then stretch his arms out on either side to play tug of war with it, the crowds behind them no longer touching the scene but directing the ebb and flow of their game with his body in time to the music.

Raphael kicks off into a flip from that position, wrenches his arm from Stan’s grip and twirl’s Lily into a dip, painstakingly enacting biting her neck while the rest of the cluster of dancers jumps back. He freezes as the opening cuts off and stutters into the next song, each member of the crew slide-steps to their next formation.

_(OOOOHHHHHH)_

_I’m just a sucker for-_

_Tell- tell- tell- tell-_

Raphael and Simon slip into position at the front and centre of the stage. The Clan’s taken steps in time with the skipping of the song into a zig-zag formation of couples, all members facing left. Raphael’s staring at the curls on the back of Simon’s head, he wants to smile but they’re in the middle of a performance so he holds back.

_[Tell me pretty lies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LmWBphAf72g) _

_Look me in the face_

_Tell me that you love me_

_Even if it’s fake_

Raphael swings a hand to cover Simon’s mouth then smooths it back over his head without touching him, ending the fluid motion with a no-contact push to his back, the taller dancer leans forward to further the illusion of force. He then whips his hand toward Simon’s shoulder and spins him around. His left arm slides across his partner’s bicep and his right reaches up as they gravitate toward each other, their faces getting close enough to kiss, before Simon abruptly pushes him into a crouch at eye-level with his crotch.

_‘cause I don’t fucking care_

_At all_

They pause for this beat between lines and then launch into a few synchronised dance moves of Simon’s suggestion, all leans and rolls and hand-directed body movements.

_You’ve been out all night_

_I don’t know where you’ve been_

_You’re slurrin’ all your words_

_Not makin’ any sense_

_But I don’t fucking care_

_At all_

Raphael wraps his arm around Simon’s waist and pulls him to his side. As Simon slides into his figure his left arm comes up to rest on his head and he turns his gaze into Raphael’s neck while the shorter dancer traces his fingers up the other’s silhouette, going over the arch of his arm, setting skin to tingling until he reaches the hand hanging between their heads and twines his fingers with it. They bob on their heels with every click in the background beat.

_‘cause I have hella feelings for you_

_I act like I don’t fucking care_

_Like they ain’t even there_

Raphael rocks his hip out and bumps Simon into a twirl that Simon turns back on him, twirling Raphael back into his side, their hands still joined. They flow into a ballroom dance inspired routine with nothing but their hands and eyes making contact. At stages they wrap and let go of each other’s fingers, come close to touching each other elsewhere but have one or both pull away at the last second. Teasing and taunting each other until Raphael finally lets go and spins to the ground with dramatic flair. The guys in the other couples behind them look up but Raphael stares down.

_‘cause I have hella feelings for you_

_I act like I don’t fucking care_

_‘cause I’m so fucking scared_

From his position on the ground Raphael rhythmically sweeps back towards Simon, who artfully mimes calling him until he’s risen from the floor like the dead, they interlace their legs and grind against each other for three slow, solid beats.

_I’m only a fool for you_

_And maybe you’re too good for me_

Simon lowers his grind until he’s on one knee and here Raphael directs his movements without skin-to-skin contact, the theme of this section being the push and pull of bodies forbidden to touch.

_I’m only a fool for you_

_But I don’t fucking care_

_At all_

_Oh-_

_[Boom boom boom](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4m48GqaOz90) _

They get lost in synch, Simon’s body flawlessly manipulated by Raphael’s hands as if taut strings link the latter’s palms to the former’s muscles until Simon hoists himself onto Raphael’s hips and, at the last line of the segment, the older dancer spins Simon around lovingly until their foreheads have gravitated together and their heaving chests are almost touching. They meet eyes and brush noses and mingle breath, getting lost enough in the moment that they almost miss their next cue.

A little hasty with the change-over but hitting every mark, Raphael slips his arms under Simon’s thighs and launches him into a backflip and the next part of their routine as a classic dance battle.

Flushed from the heat of the previous segment they almost mess up the false animosity of the next part of their piece by grinning too widely but are quickly able to reign in their giddiness and riff off each other with the rest of the Clan.

Their roles take a back seat in this section but they’re back to the forefront as the Spanish guitar trickles in and they mix hip hop with Latin flair in the final part of their routine, ending cheekily with Simon’s leg hoisted up against Raphael’s hip and the younger dancer stretched backwards into an almost kiss with Lily.

The crowd surrounding the stage cheers maniacally and the Clan spies standing ovations. Raphael sees impressed nods and pleasantly surprised faces from the judges and has to fight the urge to hoist his fledgling up to meet his lips in victory-fuelled ecstasy.

“ _Simon!_ ” Clary shrieks in excitement and leaps onto her childhood friend’s back in greeting once the Clan has cleared the stage to an outro of cheers and applause.

“That was _hot_!” she yells into his ear through the celebratory noise, the Clan’s high fives, flips and yells surrounding them in an excited buzz. Raphael’s hand is in his and his best friend’s body is warm on his back and his cheeks are flushed from adrenaline so Simon just laughs at the compliment and huffs at a strand of flaming hair that’s tickling his nose.

She giggles and climbs down to hug him, loosening his grip on Raphael in the process. Simon glances up to check on said Clan leader and sees that nothing can dim his boyfriend’s glow as he gives him an adoring stare before surveying the ten-man party unfolding around them.

“Seriously!” his attention is drawn back to Clary, her fiery hair emphasising the glow of pride in her eyes as she stares up at him in admiration. She punches his arm.

“That was super sexy,” she gives a glance to Raphael’s back as she speaks and Simon flushes a deeper red. A clap on his back makes him yelp and he turns to face a grinning blond.

“I am so gay for you right now,” Jace gives his version of a deadpan delivery, grin ever-present, “ _that’s_ how sexy that was.”

Simon laughs but almost immediately worries about Raphael and meets his eyes where he stands at Jace’s shoulder. He relaxes almost immediately as he watches the older dancer’s mouth twitch with holding back a smile. The uncertainty of their relationship right now is killing him, he doesn’t even know if he should be thinking of his crew’s leader as his boyfriend.

“Careful Nephilim,” Raphael’s voice strokes Jace’s shoulder as he approaches Simon and pulls him flush against his side, “get your own sexy back up dancer,” he kisses Simon gently.

“Back up dancer?” Simon scrunches up his face in offence and pushes Raphael away.

He stomps into Jace’s arms and stares into the amused blond’s mismatched eyes, exaggeratedly acting out a loving gaze.

“Hold me?”

Jace’s chest is jumping with laughter but he dips Simon and responds with a low: “Of course, mi amor.”

“Hey!” Clary tugs on Jace’s arm, “that’s my boyfriend you’re re-appropriating,” she complains as she manhandles Jace back to her side, both boys laughing and Raphael rolling his eyes.

The Nephilim perform soon after. Izzy and Clary take centre stage first and mirror each other to G-Eazy and Grace’s version of[ ‘You Don’t Own Me’ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SeRU_ZPDkE)before the track crashes into [‘Emperor’s New Clothes’ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qFF2v8VsaA)by Panic! at the Disco and the Nephilim’s famed parabatai launch into a stunt battle.

Jace and Alec are a crowd favourite, their partnership and fame cultivated through a YouTube channel called ‘Parabatai’. The dynamism in their routine is almost aggressive, notoriously like a continuous fighting sequence and punctuated with perfectly timed stunts. It slows down but becomes more pointed and precise when Twenty One Pilots’[ ‘Fairly Local’ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HDI9inno86U)slips in for their finale.

The two pairings fade into the perfunctory group routine until the track stutters into a last ‘You don’t own me’ and, on opposite sides of the stage, Alec holds up Clary’s wrist while Izzy similarly hoists Jace’s arm. It’s unclear whether they’re threatening or championing them as the remaining Nephilim dancers form a chain of poses leading between the mismatched partners.

Raphael’s fledgling squeezes his hand and kisses his forehead, whispering into his ear: “if we don’t get that prize I’ll let you be on top tonight.”

Raphael raises an eyebrow at that, the tension successfully diffused. Simon waggles his eyebrows at his unimpressed boyfriend who can’t help a chuckle out of nervousness.

And when they’re back on stage, members of the Clan climbing all over each other in elation and cheering along with the crowd, Simon finds a way, in all the deafening noise, to his lover’s ear.

“You must be disappointed Raph,” Raphael gives Simon a quirked brow, “we may have won but you don’t get to be on top tonight.”

He pulls a face and Raphael chuckles, transferring the trophy to another Clan member’s hands to put both on his mischievous fledgling’s ass. Simon jumps and swats his hands away to Raphael’s unabashed laughter and frowns at him in indignation but gravitates back when called.

“We’ll be too busy celebrating tonight to have sex, Simon.”

“Gasp! Don’t say such things!”

Raphael’s laughter rumbles in everyone’s ears as the Clan moves their cheers offstage, the occasional yip of: “Blasphemy!” following the elated mass. Backstage Simon consoles a disappointed but proud Clary and they all get invited to a Magnus Bane party, neutral ground for the victory.

The festive air doesn’t subside until Camille waltzes into the middle of Monday practice, effectively killing any cheer with a flash of her too-white, too-sharp, red-lipped smirk.

The Clan is gathered nonchalantly all over the studio, using the time to hang out after a hard-won competition and chatting in one cumulative buzz to a YouTube-monitored playlist. Hailey is monitoring YouTube, both because YouTube can’t be trusted and, because her affinity for setting tunes to vibes is revered throughout the dance crew. She’s singing loudly when the heels first tap in.

“I’m young!” she yells with a kick-step, “and I love to be young!”

“I’m free!” Lily kicks with her, “and I love to be free!”

They wrap their arms around each other and sway like two drinking buddies on their way home.

“To live my life the way I want! To say and do whatever I ple-…”

Lily abruptly cuts off but Hailey’s voice trails away as they stare at the door. The clan picks up their unease when their voices are replaced by measured taps on the wood floors and they all focus their attention on the arrival of their former leader as Hailey absently lowers the volume.

Raphael is the first to stand and meet her mid-stride, Simon is stood just behind and off to his side and the rest of the clan half-raised like an uncertain army behind him.

“Camille,” Raphael greets with a small measure of civility, “you’re back from Italy. Why?”

Camille gives one of her toothy grins, not that she has to move her mouth much to show teeth; being one of those people that always have their pearly whites on display in a way that can come off as either seductive or predatory. Camille somehow does both.

“The Clan’s won another competition,” she explains, putting a casual hand on Raphael’s shoulder and stroking his chest as she glides past him like water around a rock, “it’s been a while,” she remarks offhandedly and offensively, “I’ve come to put our winnings to good use and celebrate.”

She makes her proposal to the conflicted Clan, arms wide like a mother welcoming her children into her bosom. Simon watches Raphael hunch his shoulders to keep from whirling around and yelling at Camille. He swallows and touches the older dancer’s back and, where Camille made every muscle in Raphael’s toned figure strain against his own skin, Simon’s touch pats every tendon back into place and Raphael gives him a small smile of thanks as he turns back around to face Camille.

Simon watches the following interchange wondering: if Camille is the mother and Raphael the father, then does that make him the home-wrecker?

He blanches when he realises that he’s dated them both and quickly shakes himself out of that analogy.

“We already have plans for the money Camille,” Raphael strides up beside her but angles his body to include the Clan in their conversation, “important plans. You can’t squander it on a party this time.”

Camille scoffs, “I deserve my fair share.”

“You weren’t even there-,”

“And you think that means you don’t still owe me? Tell me, who owns this beautiful studio you use for practice?”

Raphael’s jaw becomes stone.

“Who collected you glorious talents and gave you a place to showcase your passions?” she addresses the conflicted Clan with a hurt plea in her tone, “none of you would be here if it weren’t for me,” she almost laughs the words out.

Her eyes slide over to Raphael’s taut face.

“And yet Raphael would have you believe that I don’t deserve to be part of this team anymore. Have I not used my fair share of the money to benefit all of us? To celebrate us? Reward all of you?”

The Clan, for a crew of dancers, is utterly still but Simon keeps his eyes on Raphael’s face so when he pleads with Camille the younger dancer can practically taste the desperation in his gaze.

“ _Please_ Camille,” his voice is a low growl, “some of the Clan need-,”

“I’m part of the Clan,” her voice is just as low and as merciless and Raphael’s was pleading, “I’ll take what I need.”

With the final word to Raphael said Camille turns on her heel and clacks out to the low ebb of music in the stunned background. [A Halsey song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRHNi3QfFlE).

_And all the people say_

_You can’t wake up this is not a dream_

_You’re part of a machine_

_You are not a human being_

The chorus has run for its third and final time when Raphael finally moves.

He walks too calmly, too carefully, too slowly.

When he reaches the doors and steps out of sight Lily is suddenly beside Simon, her eyes are wide and there’s a mix of anger, sadness and concern flickering on her features. Simon feels like he doesn’t know the extent of the situation.

“He can’t be alone right now.”

“Wha-,”

“It’s his brothers,” Lily tries to explain quickly while ushering him toward the doors, “Luis and Ricardo. Selene, Derek and Autumn also have family that could have used the bigger cut we were getting,” they reach the doors but the elevator’s already dinged shut. She jogs down the stairs with him.

“Camille normally gets a dancer’s share plus a bonus for being co-ordinator basically. If she’s taking her slice of the pie Derek’s mom, Raphael’s brothers, Selene’s husband, no one’s gonna be able to scrape through this time.”

Simon stumbles and nearly topples down the stairs in surprise. How had he not known this?

“Can’t you guys help out?” is the first suggestion he comes up with, “in total you guys have the lion’s share.”

Lily grimaces, “We have problems of our own Simon,” she corrects him, “they’re just not as pressing. Of course we’re going to help with our own cuts but there’s only so much we can give away,” she gives him a look, “we’re a family but we have family you know?”

Simon swallows and understands. Lily’s mouth twitches into an appreciative smile as they near the doors. She gives him a clap on the back.

“Don’t let him go home, he wouldn’t want his brothers to see him like this but he won’t know what to do with himself either. Distract him. And remember that he’s more of a bleeding heart than he likes you to think.”

She calls the last part after his back as he sprints toward Raphael’s car. It’s just been rumbled to a start when Simon smoothly slides into the passenger seat. Simon’s expecting Raphael to say something but, almost as if he doesn’t realise the younger’s presence, he just pulls out and starts driving.

After a minute of absolute silence Simon starts giving directions to his own apartment, unsure of what to expect but the idea of home-ground making him feel better. Raphael spends a long time sitting on Simon’s couch staring into space while Simon antses about, occasionally asking questions that Raphael doesn’t hear.

He’s, in fact, too busy to see the ticking of the time bomb in the form of Raphael’s chest heaving higher and higher with each breath as his control reaches breaking point and he explodes into movement, blindly swiping textbooks and papers off the coffee table, upending said coffee table, roaring in anger and kicking over the couch. Simon watches, paralyzed in fear until he sees Raphael striding towards a wall and just knows that whatever his boyfriend is thoughtlessly about to do will result in blood, more destruction to his apartment and/or eviction for all the noise complaints he was undoubtedly already getting.

So Simon does the most illogical thing he can think of and gets in Raphael’s way, thinking that it would somehow be better if his lover hurt him instead of himself. He quickly steps into the middle of Raphael’s rampage, arms up in defence and soothing tone at the ready, using his knack for endless, almost meaningless sentences to try to get through to the other man.

It doesn’t work.

Raphael teeters on the edge of just punching Simon instead. He can’t get it all the way right though and his lover’s body thuds into the wall anyway kept there by a hard kiss. Raphael grips Simon’s biceps forcefully enough to bruise and roughly shoves his knee between the curly-haired brunet’s legs.

He crushes their bodies together and Simon gasps around his tongue, struggling for air through the surprise and lack of space between their bodies. Raphael moves away from his mouth and Simon coughs and gasps over his shoulder, having just enough time to draw a breath before the shorter man latches onto his neck and rips apart the vessels beneath his skin in a rough kiss mark.

Simon yelps and squirms and groans as he’s manhandled, his shirt nearly ripped off and his pants half undone.

“ _Raphae-!_ ” he manages to gasp out but his boyfriend’s still gone berserker and so he swallows and endures. Raphael suddenly sweeps Simon around and presses himself to the wall, trapping Simon against him as if trying to contain himself with the other’s narrower body; tracing Simon’s back with shivering fingers and gasping into the increasingly gentle kiss-bite hybrids he leaves all over his lover’s neck and chest.

Simon’s upper body is heaving and his skin flashes hot and cold, the skittering along his muscles making him uncomfortably fidgety. He groans in frustration and moves restlessly in Raphael’s arms.

“Raphael,” he complains and nips at the other’s ear in annoyance.

Raphael just growls and strings Simon along into the bedroom where he throws the younger dancer onto the bed and continues to ravage him, holding him down by the wrists but remembering to stroke infuriating circles into the sensitive skin beneath Simon’s palm.

By now Simon’s growling too, the touches producing prickles on his skin and the discomfort compressing a bulb of passion in his sternum. He gets fed up with his lips being tugged on and his skin being teased, his mouth being just missed and complaints going unheard. He surges upward and wrestles Raphael’s back to the bed, startling the dancer.

Using the moment of surprise to his advantage Simon realigns them on the bed and slides his legs under Raphael’s thighs, removing his shoes in the process, glad he has a habit of removing his own shoes the moment he steps into his own apartment.

Raphael’s absent moment passes and he yanks Simon’s face to his own. He would have accidentally cracked their heads together if his partner wasn’t being the controlled one in the relationship this far.

“Simon,” his voice is like a prayer between their battling lips and his tracing fingers becoming clawing nails as he digs into his young lover’s back. Simon hisses in pain and feels tears prick at the back of his eyes. He whimpers in pain and sadness but tries to match Raphael’s angry energy.

He rears back to tear off the rest of Raphael’s clothes and lets the other’s desperate fingers score his skin as he does the same.

“Raphael,” he begs.

“Inside me,” is the reply.

Simon’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

Raphael pleads with the sweat-slicked skin of his neck.

“I want you inside me,” and Simon gulps and can’t control the rhythm of his breath anymore how is he supposed to control the rhythm of his- in Raphael’s- he shakes his head slightly and rubs Raphael’s back soothingly.

Silken curls soften the blow of Raphael’s head shaking vigorously against his chin and wriggling out of the soothing hold. He pulls back and narrows his eyes heatedly at the reluctant Simon.

“I want you to fuck me,” he demands and settles back into the pillows, spreading his legs and hoisting his hips invitingly. Simon swallows.

Simon swallows again and then meets Raphael’s eyes. He nods with his lip between his teeth and doesn’t remove his gaze from Raphael’s while his hands scramble for the lube in the drawer beside his bed. Raphael is stroking himself teasingly in the meantime and Simon is salivating; whether it’s out of nervousness or desire, though, he can’t tell.

The too-slick wetness on Simon’s hand is heaven to Raphael’s dick when his lover’s hand replaces his own while Simon’s fingers gently sink into his ass. But Raphael doesn’t want gentle. He wants the roughness Simon promised if pushed hard enough. He wants the blaze of passion that had pushed Raphael into the bed and put Simon on top.

“More,” he’s quick to grunt, Simon hesitates but Raphael drags the other man’s head down to tease at his lips and drags a slow, five-fingered line down his back and Simon’s adding more fingers.

“Harder,” he orders and makes sure to meet Simon’s thrusts while digging into his back.

“Dick,” he whimpers, “I want- your cock- Simo-,”

Simon’s unapologetic and decisive when he buries his cock inside Raphael’s ass to the hilt. They both slump toward each other from the impact and Simon’s ragged breathing mingles with Raphael’s desperate gasps as they adjust.

Simon starts up the rhythm, sufficiently in the mode of the evening to immediately go for a hard and fast series of thrusts. Raphael gasps and whines and screams. Some incomprehensible, some ‘yes’, some cries in one way or another about god and, every now and then he would mention Simon and Simon would reply with his lover’s name or ‘I’m right here’ or ‘you feel so good Raph’.

Eventually they’re both just repeating each other’s names. Raphael’s eyes are closed and tears are gathered in their corners, just spilling out, yelling Simon’s name with his head thrown back and his body wrapped sinuously around his lover. Simon kisses the tears away as accurately as possible while thrusting relentlessly into his Latino lover’s perfect body, whispering and whining Raphael’s name where Raphael screams his.

Raphael cums first, in the middle of shouting Simon’s name, his orgasm pulsating throughout his body and squeezing Simon’s out in a gasping incoherence of Raphael’s name, half-mumbled half whined into his lover’s ear the way he likes it. Raphael leans into the sound and pants into Simon’s shoulder.

They’re breathing heavily and Simon’s limbs are already shaking when he picks up whispered words being wheezed into his shoulder.

“Lo siento, lo siento Simon I’m sorry, I’m-,” Raphael is sobbing into his collar bone and Simon soon gets the feeling that the litany of apologies is for a lot more than ruining his apartment and possibly getting thrown out.

He quickly gets the feeling that it’s not just for him.

He gulps and rolls onto his side, fighting a quick debate over whether to get a cloth to clean themselves up a little. He decides yes and, even though Raphael shrinks into himself when Simon’s gone, he’s easily coaxed back into an embrace when they’re relatively clean.

“I ne-,” he starts pulling away slightly, trying to get out of the bed, “I need to fix it, I need to fix-,” he heaves and Simon doesn’t clutch him harder, just kisses his forehead and puts his lips to his ear and speaks to him, with his knack for almost senseless endless sentences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is getting another chapter.
> 
> Not because of comments this time aha. I realized, once I'd finished, that it would be torturous to leave it here so I'm going to return to it, I swear.
> 
> Hopefully within the year haha (^_^")>


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